gotham
by jonsnows
Summary: she was too serious. he wasn't serious enough. but everyone took him seriously anyway, and considering how hard she worked at it, that fucking pissed her off. —clovemarvel.


**a/n:** Something I found in my Writing folder, written circa 2014. Enjoy!

* * *

She was too serious.

He wasn't serious enough.

But everyone took him seriously anyway, and considering how hard she worked at it, that fucking pissed her off.

"You're a joke," she spits out over dinner one day in the Capitol.

Glimmer and Cato have already disappeared off to God only knows where, and she twirls the steak knife between her fingers, itching to strike out at something – anything. Cato's supposed to be hers.

He looks at her and raises his eyebrows, his lips curling into a cheeky grin, one she wishes she could rip right off his face.

Then, he reaches over and ruffles her hair. "You're adorable," he says simply.

Clove glares, slams the knife down on the table. "You call me that one more time, and I'll kill you myself."

"I'll hold you to it," he calls out, even after she's scraped back her chair, halfway to the door.

"Fuck you," she says.

Not that she would. Ever.

* * *

She bumps into Glimmer on her way out of the elevator.

They don't acknowledge each other's presence.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't notice Glimmer's smudged lipstick, or the clumsily buttoned shirt.

Glimmer saunters past her, followed by a waft of flowery perfume.

Part of her wishes she'd sneeze all over that pretty face.

It's the other smell trailing after her that makes her want to wring Glimmer's neck.

Cato's new aftershave.

"If someone offered you free food," Cato says, when she brings up the vapid bitch, "would you tell them to fuck off?"

"Depends on who's offering," she snaps. "If it's that – "

"Ah, you're jealous." He lets his finger trail along the underside of her chin. "That's…"

"If you say adorable, I'll cut your fucking balls off," she says.

"Unneeded," he finishes with a smirk, stretching his bare, toned arms.

But he still backs away.

In the end, she's still not good enough.

* * *

Marvel tells a cheesy pick-up line.

Everyone laughs, including Glimmer, except for her. She rolls her eyes.

"With all that lame talk, it's no wonder you haven't gotten laid." She glances over at Glimmer, who's playing footsie with Cato under the table.

"You aren't exactly doing any better," Marvel replies, a smile playing on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snarls. Her grip on the knife tightens.

"Sure thing, wildcat," he says. Then after a thoughtful pause, "He won't ever do it, you know. You're still a kid."

"At least I'm not a loser," she says shortly.

"There's only room for one proclaimed alpha male."

"Who'd pick you over him?"

"And who'd pick you over her?"

It stings, worse than she expects.

She spins around.

"Anyone who has a brain."

* * *

She's still mad at Cato.

So much that, even though they usually train together, she decides to let him have Glimmer.

She may be more than just a pretty face, but no matter what she knows, she's got nothing on Clove, who's spent every waking minute of her life training (in one way or another).

Still, maybe it wasn't such a good idea, because Marvel's no match for Cato either.

He holds his spear too loose, and she knocks it easily out of his hand before slamming him into the ground.

"Won't be so adorable if I carve the smile into your face permanently, isn't that right?" She asks, the dagger poised at his cheek.

His eyes, unusually dark, search her face. Somehow, he manages to flip her over. There's no use trying the same manoeuvre. His grip on her is as strong as iron. "Small tip. Focus your weight on the hips, not the legs. Then they can't buck you off."

"Get off me," she says. "Or I swear I'll –"

"Or you swear you'll what?" He asks. The smile is cruel this time. "Mutilating me won't make Cato want you any more than he does. Or should I say, any less?"

"Fuck off, Marvel," she yells, and raises a hand to strike him, but he pins her arms to her side.

"Filthy words for a filthy mouth," he says, and leans forward to kiss her savagely, his mouth rough against her own.

She bites him, hard.

He recoils, his expression conflicted, then laughs, stands up, and leaves.

Throwing knives, while imagining him to be the target, doesn't make her feel any better.

It usually does.

And this time, the heat stays.

* * *

The District 2 mentors and escorts pretend they don't see Glitter's diaphanous interview dress strewn across the couch.

"Let's see if she really shines," Caesar Flickerman had said. She'd been unable to hold back a snort, arms folded across her chest as she'd waited for her own turn.

Marvel had scowled.

Cato had just laughed.

And now, Cato had his door closed.

Clove knows she could barge in. She could pretend she hadn't known, just to spite the both of them, to catch them fucking in a compromising position.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she takes a knife and buries it right in the centre of his door.

If she's going to be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games, she's going to need her rest. With or without him.

* * *

Her door creaks open in the middle of the night.

"Cato?" She whispers blindly, blinking at the shadow that makes his way over to her bed.

She hates how desperate her voice is, and her fingers clench the bed sheets.

As soon as he gets closer, she realizes it's not Cato, but Marvel.

He staggers over, smelling of pine and of spirits, and she tenses.

"Kiss me, wildcat," he says, his eyes glittering in the dark.

"Who let you in?" She barks.

Her arms twitch, ready to lash out if – when – need be.

"Your mentors," he said. "I convinced them I needed to go over alliance plans with Cato for the games tomorrow."

She makes a sound of indignation. As if Cato would ever.

He notices. "It was good enough for them," he laughs. Humorless.

"Did Glimmer come back?" She asks.

"Yeah. Didn't even want to talk to me, the princess."

So maybe people don't take him as seriously as she thought they did after all.

She smiles then, shows her teeth.

She rarely smiles.

"What's so funny, wildcat?"

And she pulls him down towards her, her hands clasped around his neck. She could strangle him if she wanted, but she doesn't.

"Kiss _me_ , you prick," she breathes into his ear, and wraps her legs around his hips, her lips crashing against his.

He does.

And so, so much more.

* * *

They're the only ones who don't have to worry about drawing attention to themselves by starting a fire.

"I could have done it," she says angrily, when they're collecting firewood, and talking about the girl who was stupid enough to draw attention to herself.

"I know you could've," Cato says shortly, before moving off in the opposite direction. "Save your energy for…More important tasks."

He stalks further off before she gets to throw back a biting reply.

Why does he let Glimmer? Why does he _always_ let Glimmer?

She's killed fourteen lizards, three squirrels, and five birds out of restlessness. The others are already asleep. Glimmer has her head nestled in the crook of Cato's shoulder. Her face is still annoyingly dirt-free and her hair is as shiny as ever.

Clove glances up at Katniss Everdeen in her tree perch with undisguised hatred. She appears to be asleep too.

Clove lets her head fall back on the dirt and closes her eyes, only to throw them back open again when she feels someone touching her arm.

Marvel.

He leans over and trails kisses along her sweaty, dirt-streaked neck.

She swallows hard, hoping the weakness in her legs doesn't show, and turns her face away.

"Get off me," she says, and pushes him away. "Nobody can know."

And he does.

But some part of her almost wishes he wouldn't.

* * *

Glimmer dies the next day.

Clove takes satisfaction in how the tracker jacker stings have ruined her pretty face, and she kicks the corpse one last time before following after the others.

They lose Katniss Everdeen, but to be quite honest, she's not all that bothered by their failure.

They'll have another chance, and besides, Cato has started paying attention to her again.

Marvel says nothing.

He glances down at Glimmer's body for a beat, no more, no less. Then he moves on.

From that point onwards, he pretends as if nothing's changed.

* * *

Marvel doesn't come back when their supply stash is blown apart.

Clove finds him in the forest with an arrow wound in his neck, lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes are wide open. Unseeing.

The arrow itself is nowhere to be found, but the signature is clear. Katniss Everdeen.

She says nothing.

She glances down at his body for a beat, maybe more. Then she moves on.

From that point onwards, she has a new goal.

She's going to kill Katniss Everdeen, and she's going to make it hurt.

* * *

"Why?" Cato asks, suspicious, when she tells him she wants to be the one to get their pack from the Cornucopia.

"Because I can take her down," Clove replies.

She doesn't need to elaborate on who "her" refers to. Cato knows well enough.

His eyes are cold. "Fine," he consents. "But remember, you're mine."

"I'm not anybody's," she says evenly, holding his stare.

Maybe that's why he lets her die.

* * *

The Girl on Fire is, after everything, only human.

She focuses her weight not on the legs, but on the hips.

She won't be thrown off. Not again.

 _I'll carve out his smile on your face and make you wear it,_ she thinks.

She smiles, but she's mad, mad, mad.

And now, Clove is going to kill Katniss Everdeen.

But then, District 11 shows up, and fuck everything, she's scared.

She's tempted to scream Marvel's name, but he's dead, dead, dead, and the dead can't help anyone.

"Cato," she yells instead. "Cato!"

But he doesn't come.

Something heavy hits her head, and then she's gone. Forever.

Nothing.

Nobody.

And being serious – it didn't get her all that far.

* * *

Clove wakes to the sound of her own cannon. She gets to her feet. The meadow is empty.

She turns around, expecting the Cornucopia, but _he's_ there instead.

And suddenly, being dead doesn't seem to matter.

He looks at her and swallows visibly.

She walks over to him, her hands around his throat.

She could strangle him.

But her hands keep moving up, fist themselves in his hair.

She looks him in the eyes.

"Kiss me," she says.

He smiles.

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : All characters and the world of Hunger Games belong to the wonderful Suzanne Collins.


End file.
